


Hot Mess

by coveredbyroses



Series: Birthday Drabbles 2018 [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Shameless Smut, Squirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 07:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16849840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: You have sex with Dean. Very wet sex.





	Hot Mess

Heavy fingers dent into the flesh of your spread thighs, your own flattened against the smooth plane of muscled chest as you rock your hips. Dean’s small bedroom is washed in dull, yellow light that, blooming out from the single lamp on his nightstand. He’s not quite moaning, just heavy breaths rolling out between perfectly ovaled lips. He’s looking up at you from underneath heavily hooded eyes, thighs tensing up under yours as you move against him.

It’s a struggle to keep your own eyes open as you fuck down on him, he’s thick and deep inside you, filling you in a way that keeps your belly hot, your spine tingling. You shift backwards when the burn in your thighs becomes too much, get your weight on your hands that are splayed on either side of his bowed knees––and then you’re pumping your hips, rhythm not exactly steady, but the angle feels phenomenal, infinitely deeper.

It doesn’t take long for the burn in your thighs to manifest in your upper arms. Dean catches on, pulls up to hook his arm around your waist. “Lay back, baby,” he rasps, leaning in to ease you down. He’s on his knees, your legs hooked over his––and then he’s humping into you, short and shallow little thrusts that gain in depth and speed with every passing second. The perfect curve of his dick brushes over your g-spot, each pass sending a simmering wave of heat rolling through you.

You gasp into the dim quiet of the room when Dean gets a rough thumb on your clit, draws quick little circles as he pumps into you. The circles get faster and faster while his hips snap harder and harder––the angle, the speed––oh god, you’re gonna––

“Dean!” you screech, “Oh god, I can’t––you––I’m gonna––you can’t!”

Dean isn’t listening, lost in a lust-fog as he chases his release. His thumb presses harder, free hand clasps onto your bouncing right breast as he cranks you higher. You feel good, frighteningly good; you’re hot and cold at the same time and then––

And then everything goes briefly numb before you’re imploding. You feel the warm gush of your orgasm sluice out––you know you’re soaking the sheets, know it’s coating his dick, splattering against his lower belly. And fuck, you’d tried to warn him––

He stills, eyes hooked where the two of you connect. “Holy shit,” he breathes, and god you could just die. 

“That was fucking hot.”

“Huh?”

You’re still flinching and clenching around him, clit pulsing and dazed. “I tried to…to––” He starts to move again, fucks into your twitching heat.

“Didn’t know y’could squirt,” he mutters, leaning down to mouth at your sweat-slick neck, and you can hear the wet squelch as he rocks into you. “Next time,” he gasps, “you’re gonna do that with my tongue inside you…”

He finds his rhythm again, spears into you in a way that has your eyes rolled back, your nails embedded into the tacky skin of his back. And then he’s curling up into you, growling into your neck as he spills in deep.

“Fuck,” he pants, lifting up so he can look at you, he smiles loose and lazy.

“You’re a hot little mess.”


End file.
